My love-hate relationship with training

I have the post-race blues after the Barkley Fall Classic.  It always happens, especially after a race as awesome as that one.  I think it is because training is just so boring.  I often times wonder about the insanity of sticking to a training schedule - a little number in an Excel spreadsheet that dictates everything about my running life.  If it were up to me - and time and money wasn't an issue - I would just do a few easy jogs each week and run a race every weekend.

You wouldn't think monotony would be the case.  There are so many variables that revolve around training runs. Early morning, lunch time, or evening? Hill repeats, track, route around town? Am I going to run intervals?  Will it be speed intervals with a slower jog recovery, or an easy run pace with a walking recovery?  Do I want to run a negative split run, or an even pace?  Should I run by heart rate or not? Do I want to push hard on the uphills, push hard on the downhills, or keep an even effort level through the entire run?  Do I want to run alone or with a group?

Despite my tendency to do a wide variety of these running styles, after a few weeks I tend to feel like I'm in a rut.  I wake up and have no desire to go run.  I think of how dumb it is that I'm setting my alarm at 4:26am to go do a training run - because that is the only time that works well for my schedule.  I think about my college self, who would often times still be up from the night before at this time.  I think of my young parent self, who would wake up all hours of the night with our children and be exhausted the next day.  I think of those same kids, who now when they wake up "early" they are still getting up more than 2 hours later than me.  And yet, I am choosing to do this!  What is wrong with me?

I look at the light posts and can literally see the humidity in the air.  I think how much training through the North Carolina summer sucks, and I wish fall would hurry up and get here.  I've read articles that say when the dew point is over 70, you should either have extremely low expectations for your run, or consider skipping your run altogether and wait for it to be better conditions.  The alternative to the high humidity is to wait until later in the day, when the humidity might drop a bit but then the temperature climbs up to the 90s or higher.  It feels like we have been dealing with this weather since March, and it seems it will never end.

I think of the absurdity of driving my car 15 minutes each way to go run with a group of like-minded people, which most likely will split up because everyone is running their own pace and I may end up left behind to run in the dark alone.  I think about how it would be easier to just run around the neighborhood for the 100th time, but then I might set the alarm for later, like 5:30am.  That generally turns into "why not wait until lunch?", and I end up working through my lunch hour, which turns into an exhausting day and an inevitable skipped training day.  So we are back to the car and driving down the road when everyone else is still asleep, and wondering what I'm doing with my life. What is wrong with me?

Then it happens. After getting out of the car and all geared up with lights, the feet start slowly moving.  I think this might not be so bad, after I work out some of the kinks from yesterday's run or rest.  I usually take the first mile or so pretty easy, just to let the heart rate slowly rise and get my legs loosened.  Today was a 15 minute warm up before the group meetup at 5:30.  I join another dozen runners for the run club's "run of the day."  Today is a 4.4 mile road run with rolling hills, with a mile or so where it flattens out. The pace felt easy, yet I was able to keep up with a group of runners.  We were chatting about races and other things so the hills passed quite easily.  As the run went on, the pace quickened yet my legs still felt strong.  Heart rate and breathing was under control.

Suddenly, my previous hate of training becomes a love of training.  Complaining about the weather seems ridiculous, because I know putting in hard efforts in hard conditions will pay off in spades when the weather changes (hopefully by the time race season comes around).  Every training run is like a drop in a bank account, and come race day when it is time to make that withdrawal I want to have as much as possible built up.  Waking up early is a logical choice - I always feel better after a run and now I will have this feeling for several hours throughout my work day.  And I will be able to relax in the evening hanging out with my wife and playing with my kids.  Who needs sleep anyways?  The route was the same as last week, but that also makes it familiar, so I know what is to come.  It is a great feeling to know when I need to back off a bit and when I can push.  And if I had just ran alone in the neighborhood, I would not have had the encouragement of other runners, my friends who will push me to reach my goals as they strive to reach their own.  I enjoy the quiet car ride home to cool off and reflect on how great of a run I just had.

Do all training runs end this way? Of course not, it can't always be all sunshine and rainbows.  Sometimes I feel like "everything hurts and I'm dying" and I continue my hatred of the training run.  But NOT TODAY! That will have to wait for some other time...

2018 Barkley Fall Classic 50k

2018 Barkley Fall Classic 50k
September 15, 2018 at Frozen Head State Park in Wartburg, TN
The Race of Redemption that wasn’t supposed to be – and so it wasn’t
Watch time: NO GPS!
Chip times: 11:40:12
Position: 105 out of 127 marathons finishers/203 50k finishers/83 DNF

Back Story

Let’s go back to 2015 when I started running with Holly Springs Run Club and met Amy Melle whose first questions were “Do you like mountain/trail running?” and “Have you heard of the Barkley Marathons?” That began my obsession, which ultimately led to me signing up on the wait list for 2017. Due to Hurricane Irma, several runners couldn’t make the trip last year, which led to me getting into a race I had no business doing. I had only ran more than 10 miles once all summer, but I accepted the challenge and happily finished the marathon just under 12 hours.

That jump-started my desire to be a serious long distance runner.  I’m not “fast” at the longer distance races, but I am incredibly stubborn and willing to put forth serious effort for a long time. I was already signed up for the Blue Ridge Double Marathon in April 2018, added a 40 mile race at Uwharrie in February, but intentionally put myself on the wait list so that I would attempt BFC again in 2019.  I sprinkled in a lot of other stupid, such as a solo training run marathon at 1:00am on Crossway (a 3.6 mile out and back I repeated 7 times, with something like 16 small hill climbs each lap), 20 loop repeats on the Heartbreak Hill/Soul Crusher loop (most runners around here don’t do that more than once or twice), nearly PR’ing a half marathon as part of a back-to-back long run.

After last year’s race, several of us joined a Facebook group for accountability and encouragement. It began as people training for BFC 2018 but became a group for anyone training for big races. It was helpful to see what others were doing for training.  I didn’t post in there too much aside from sharing that I was doing a lot of miles.  More on this group in a moment…

Weeks before race day

A few weeks ago, as in 2017, we realized that Hurricane Florence had decided to roll into North/South Carolina a few days before the race. Several runners had to cancel race plans to focus on their family and homes. That along with the fact that a lot of people drop out of this race for whatever reason, and race organizers were looking for people who wanted to run on short notice again.  Of course, some of those organizers are in the Facebook training group.  Hurricane Flo was predicted to take a direct path to us.  I had a quick conversation with my wife and she told me I better get my butt in gear, so we made plans that we would all go to Tennessee to get away and I would do the race.  On August 30^th I was clicking the Accept button on the invite from Ultrasignup.  I even was able to use some of that connection to get another friend to run the race with me – even though he said he wasn’t trained at all he was willing to step up to the line.

I knew I was in much better condition than last year, plus had the ultra race experience of the past 12 months.  I had some regrets that I didn’t train harder, because I knew the chances of getting in were probably good, but I wasn’t sure if it would work out even if I had to opportunity.  So I went in with a plan that was similar to last year – do as much as I could with the fitness level I’m at, but don’t ever stop unless someone forces me to (because I missed a cut off), or until I finish.

Meeting Jared at packet pickup

There is so much outside of the race that makes this a can’t-miss weekend. We drove the 6+ hours on Thursday so we had plenty of time to relax and explore the area on Friday.  We went over to see the yellow gate, which signifies the start/end point of a lap at the Barkley Marathons. Met a handful of guys there for a little jog on the trail to loosen up after the long drive. Also met John Price, who has attempted the big Barkley 5 times, BFC every time, and Vol State 500k several times including once where he ran from the finish to start line before the race for a 1000k total. I love chatting with runners that have those experiences and great stories – I hope to be one of them someday.

We went to packet pickup and I got to meet Jared Campbell, the only 3 time finisher of the Barkley Marathons.  He is a very humble, cool dude who didn’t mind chatting with complete strangers.  He even went unrecognized by a few people who walked by while we were chatting, which I guess is typical for an ultrarunner as they still don’t gain much fame, despite him probably being one of the most accomplished ultrarunners out there. We then had lunch at the new restaurant built outside of Brushy Mountain State Penitentiary, which is where James Earl Ray (who murdered Martin Luther King Jr.) escaped from and spent 50 some hours Out There and only managed to get 8 miles away.  The race was created by Lazarus Lake almost as a way to mock that, as he figured he could run 100 miles in that time.  Food was great but decided to save the moonshine sampling until after the race.  We got to meet several other runners as we studied the course for Saturday.  Everyone had high hopes with there being a new section and going in a different direction than in 2017. We then went and set up camp in a local guy named Brian’s front yard along with a dozen other runners.

Supporting the Coalfield boys

Afterwards, we went to the race dinner put on by the American Legion of Wartburg, where we also got to watch the heartbreaking documentary of Gary Robbins’ journey to finish the BM – and ultimately taking a wrong turn a few miles from finishing and sprinting to the line from the wrong direction in 60:00:06, 6 seconds too late. All I could think all weekend was ‘How can these guys possibly go do a loop under 9 hours, take a 10 minute break, then go right back out? Insane!’ We were also treated to a high school football game at Coalfield – players who come out and support us every year at aid stations.  I think they were a bit fired up to have us cheering them, as they got out to a 27-0 lead in the 1^st quarter! Shortly after that it was back to camp and early bed to get ready for a really long day in the woods.

Legend

Race Day

Woke up around 4:15 after a surprisingly good night of sleep. Knee, hip, right Achilles, left ankle have all been hurting the past few weeks, but today I feel like a machine.  Maybe it was just a bit of typical taper phantom pains? Maybe this will be my day and all will go well.  I have devised a plan for the course, breaking it down into about 10 different sections with notes on distance, elevation gain/loss, and predicted times.  It seems ridiculous to project a 3 mile section to take an hour and a half, but that’s how it is here

Being fully immersed in Frozen Ed’s book “Tales From Out There” all summer was such a big help, especially knowing things like there are 14 switchbacks from the yellow gate up to the top of Bird Mountain (our first climb).  It may have been annoying to everyone around me, but each time we hit one, I called out “1!”, “2!”, etc.  One guy thought there were 17, so when we hit 14 and I told him that meant we were at the top he was pretty elated.  A few people were already stepping off to the side to catch their breath, probably from starting out too fast. We stuck to our strategy of being in the conga line for the first climb, then we would be ready to run once we hit the descent. I mentioned to Mark that even though I had only been here once before, my experience felt much different than the first time.  In 2017 I was content to be the guy in the back of a group of 20, but today I was comfortable setting the pace and leading our group.  We hit the peak of Bird Mountain within 20 seconds of my projected pace – pretty good estimate! Next was the downhill part, where the fun begins! The park trails are narrow but very runnable, with some rock piles here and there and every once in a while a downed tree laying over the trail.  Being 6 feet tall has its advantages because most of them I was just able to step up and over, while some had to stop and spend extra precious seconds and energy climbing over.

Getting Out There in the wilderness

Just before the first aid station, our group was starting to separate a bit.  We were near 2 hours 30 minutes into the race at this point – at 7.6 miles, and we thought we were making good time!  The steepness of each switchback is pretty incredible in that you could only be one or two minutes ahead of someone but it’s impossible to see them.  I wanted to re-group after the aid station, but it was downhill running, and it was time to run our own race. It was time to make new friends with whoever else was on the trail. What I love about the trail running community is how social it is. When I run road races, everyone is focused on their pace and their watch and you rarely find people willing to talk.  Everyone here was friendly and helpful.  I tried to share some of my knowledge from a few sections where people got lost or wasted time last year, but some people wanted to confirm everything with their map and rely on themselves, which is totally understandable at Barkley. So after I gave them my advice, I had to continue on.

By the time I got to aid station #2, I was only 17 minutes behind my plan to get to Laz’s cutoff in time.  However I knew I had a 10 minute buffer, and I also had allotted 45 minutes each for the upcoming power line sections.  With one of them being downhill I knew I could make up some time.  There is a creek that runs through there, so I took the time to cool off a bit.  I had a few wipe outs in mud puddles earlier, so I washed off my arms and face, and dunked my headband into the water to help keep cool. A few people were fully laying down in the creek, but I didn’t want to risk the blisters or chaffing at this point. After quickly filling my water and getting my bib punched, it was time for the biggest challenges of the day – the power line sections.

Sometimes in a race, the dumbest things are what make you blow up.  In my case, I was a ticking time bomb, and something decided to cut the wrong wire early and make the bomb detonate immediately.  For the first few hours of the race, I was able to eat and drink fine.  But as the day went on, and temps climbed to the upper 80s with high humidity, my stomach was starting to feel knotted and I couldn’t eat.  I was constantly drinking water and having the volunteers pour Sword (on course electrolyte drink) down my throat from the gallon jugs. But because of no food – and thus no salt – at one point going up Testicle Spectacle (a path underneath power lines that gains 800+ feet in less than a mile) I stepped too close to a broken tree stump and the side of my shorts got caught. This left my leg stuck in the air and when I tried to lift it to get unstuck from the trunk, I got a massive cramp in my left calf.  I screamed out in pain and fell to the ground, and everyone around me immediately came to help – offering food, water, salt caps, anything I needed.  I graciously accepted some salt caps and apologized to everyone because I was right in the middle of the trail. I scooted over and they passed, assuring me I’d be fine and would catch up to them.  Going back down the other side of the crest on Meth Lab hill, it was so steep I was employing a slide technique with one foot extended straight out and sitting with my other foot underneath my butt to use as a break.  This caused a cramp in my right calf this time, with more screaming, and more awesome runners helping out.

I'm hurting by no chance I'm boarding this bus

Despite these problems, I made up some time coming down Meth Lab and rolled into the prison just 4 minutes later than planned.  But I needed rest at the aid station.  They had several crates for people to sit on and relax while the awesome volunteers attended to our every need – bringing us food, water, ice, throwing out our trash.  One of the guys I met at our shake out run on Friday was laid out with a full bag of ice on his head – he had been puking all day and had heat stroke and was pulled from the race, made to board the Bus of Disgrace and ride back to the finish line. I decided to switch from having water to Sword in my hydration pack, along with a lot of ice to help bring down my body temp.  I also filled my headband with ice to keep me from getting light headed.  I later heard stories of several people who passed out or were puking all along the course – I think this ice break saved me from that.  Unlike last year when I wasted 10 minutes at several places unnecessarily, I was out of the aid station in 6 minutes – a very well spent 6 minutes.

We ran through the prison yard and climbed a ladder over the wall to again meet Jared Campbell for a bib punch. On top of the wall, my toes decided to cramp up, which made Jared laugh – not sure if it was out of pity or because I was making fun of myself. I told him I was looking forward to the best part of the race – Rat Jaw.  He laughed and said “well the tunnel part is fun.” After jogging through there and getting a chance to cool down, we popped out to the base of Rat Jaw. I forgot how impossible just the first section looks.  There was one guy who was there a while before me, but decided he didn’t want to suffer climbing Rat Jaw just to miss the 50k cutoff and get a marathon finish. That’s not what I came here for – I was going to tackle this beast no matter what the final outcome.

Rat Jaw is several unrelenting, impossible to imagine climbs, some section so steep there is a metal cable for you to hold onto so you don’t slide back down.  And of course the briars, which may not slow you down but cause pain and make you want to quit.  But I knew that I went up it in 1 hour 25 minutes in 2017, and if I could manage a little bit faster this year, I would have about an hour for a 5 mile downhill run to Laz.  My legs were ready to run and felt strong at the beginning, but it wasn’t long before the heat and sun exposure zapped all my energy.  My heart rate was also out of control and they only way I could get it to slow down was to lay in the shade on the side of the trail, in a pile of briars. Rest a few minutes, get up and walk 20-30 steps, repeat over and over.  It wasn’t long before I realized my dream of a 2018 50k was out the window, and I went into self-preservation mode.

Welcome to Hotel Barkley Rat Jaw

Rat Jaw is also really two sections, first is Big Rat, then Rat Jaw – which they say gains 2000 feet in 0.8 miles.  There is a Jeep road where emergency personnel are standing by for anyone who isn’t willing to face the beast and wants to quit. When I got there, I took off my pack and laid flat on my back for at least 20 minutes, contemplating life and if I was going to continue.  Then I remembered something that I posted on Facebook, while Laz was pushing to complete his cross country walk in time to be there for our race. “Looks like Lazarus Lake is doing everything he can to make it back, putting in 29 miles yesterday! Remember his efforts to get to his finish line in time to make it back for us and the Coalfield boys, when everything sucks and you are dying next Saturday.” He also said at the pre-race dinner that he didn’t know how his legs kept moving those last few days, but somehow they did and he made it to the end.  Even though I wasn’t going to make my cut off, I owed it to Laz to keep moving and accomplish something that very few people in the world can say – I have climbed Rat Jaw and didn’t quit.

View from the tower

After Rat Jaw, there wasn’t a whole lot left of the race.  We climbed up the lookout tower to get a punch, I took a few pictures up there of the incredible views, then headed down the Jeep road to one last aid station. Then it was a nice easy 4 mile downhill run, which I had initially envisioned as being a sprint to beat the cut off, but since I was way beyond that I was jogging it with the goal of setting a BFC PR. I made it to Laz at 11:30 race time and told him that one of these years I will get into the race with more than a few weeks’ notice.  He told me that I should now know to train like I’m already in because of how the waitlist moves. I thanked him again for a wonderful experience and set off to collect my 2^nd dog tag, and beat my time from last year.

Post Race

I was at first pretty disappointed with the marathon.  I held on to my goal pace for about 6.5 hours, and thought for a long time that the 50k might happen.  But that was all my body was ready to handle.  So it’s not surprising that I started running into cramping and exhaustion problems.  Looking back, I’m very happy with what I accomplished, knowing that my training was lacking what was needed for a 50k finish.  I think the heat also played a big factor, but that sounds more like an excuse and I live in North Carolina where it is routinely over 95 degrees.  Immediately after the race, I said I was never coming back and I didn’t think it was possible for me to complete the 50k.  Then I heard what others training was like compared to mine, and I know it is possible.  I’m now more motivated than ever to put in the work.  I have already posted in my training group to get ideas of things to do differently next year.  And I’m planning on bringing more friends along to share this amazing experience.

Lessons Learned

• Training for Barkley Fall Classic requires more than just running miles. Actually after chatting with some friends shortly after the race, many of them said running mileage is pretty low on the priority list.  Everyone has different “favorite” workouts, and I think I will incorporate a little bit of everything – weight lifting, RUNNING hill repeats, hiking very steep climbs (or max incline on treadmill), heat training with a full pack, stair stepper/parking garage running, Jacob’s Ladder, dragging a tire while running, etc.  Maybe you want in next year and we can do some of that suffering together? 
• Having a nutrition plan is just as important as every other part of the race. This part got away from me during this race.  I was great at staying hydrated all day, drinking between 6 and 7 liters of water and Sword.  However due to the heat, humidity, and pushing a little bit too fast for my fitness level, my stomach got into knots pretty early and I wasn’t able to eat. This lead to some pretty severe calf cramping going up Testicle Spectacle and down Meth Lab hill.  I was trying to eat low carb and become fat adapted through this summer, but I think a race like this may require something different than what I tried.  Back to the drawing board to experiment with some new things there.  Any suggestions from you fat adapted runners who have tried this race? 
• Trail runners are awesome. Everyone I met before, during, and after the race was incredibly friendly. We helped each other plan, stay on course, shared food/water/salt tabs, encouraged people that were struggled, cheered on those that were passing, and celebrated everyone's day at the finish line, whether it was an early DNF or a strong 50k finish. We shared stories of our struggles Out There and started planning how we will do it better next time.
• You are stronger than you think you are, but you will never know unless you try to do just a little bit more. I wasn’t strong enough to get to the cut off this year. But that joy is only earned with months (years?) of dedicated training, which I failed at doing this time.  That won’t happen again.  The difference in fitness compared to where I was last year, I need to grow that much more from now until next year to have a shot.  I have to keep this lesson in mind from January – September while I’m training, with the Croix de Barque reward always in sight.  Then maybe next year I will get the reward for all the blood, sweat, and tears I put into training.